


Nearly Nowhere

by Qpenguin98



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Anxiety, Bad Time for Snufkin, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Invisible Snufkin, yall really think i could see that idea and just not do it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 17:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qpenguin98/pseuds/Qpenguin98
Summary: The winter months are Snufkin’s time to decompress, to relax in the solitude of the forest and meet new people.But this winter, it feels different.





	Nearly Nowhere

The winter months are Snufkin’s time to decompress, to relax in the solitude of the forest and meet new people. He travels places he’s never been before, always keeping close track of the countdown to spring, of when he knows he has to go back to Moominvalley. He loves the winter and the blanket of quiet it brings with it. The sounds of the world are a bit smaller, but he needs only to hush himself to hear them.

But this winter, it feels different. The places he travels to aren’t inviting, the people within them even less so. He hesitates to use the word cruel, because that is saved for unjust laws and the people who uphold them, but they’re certainly not nice. Everyone is short with him, and this corner of the world he’s found himself in seems to last forever. He avoids people for the most part, but he does still need to buy food sometimes, or purchase a tool to fix something of his.

No one he meets seems to have found any kind of bright side in life, and they take it all out on others, or maybe just on him, the stranger, the vagabond. He keeps his head low and his conversations small to stay away from any kind of conflict.

He’s poking around a market one day, trying to purchase food, roots that will last a while and maybe some bread, just as a treat to have with stew the next time he makes it, when he accidentally bumps into a man passing on his left.

“Ah, sorry,” Snufkin says, raising a hand up in a cursory wave.

“Is that it?” he asks, turning to look at him fully. Snufkin furrows his brows together and opens his mouth to ask what’s it, but he’s interrupted. “You could have knocked me over, bumping into me like that. Are you even going to say it was your fault?”

“It was an accident,” Snufkin says, crossing his arms. This is not how he wanted his endeavor into this town to go. Everyone here had left him well enough alone for the most part, and it’s been a pleasant change to all the snide remarks elsewhere. This is coming from nowhere.

“’Accident,’” he mocks, curling his tongue in a weird way, and Snufkin realizes after a moment it’s a bad attempt at mimicking his accent. His lips turn down and he settles his feet a little more, ready to leave this argument at a moment’s notice. “You’re clearly not from around here, what with that outfit. You don’t just bump into people and give a shoddy apology and call it good.”

“I think I should be going,” Snufkin says, turning his body to leave. He’s yanked back around by a hand on the ends of his scarf and his eyes widen as he’s pulled in close. He can’t tell what the other people in the market are doing, but there’s whispering from all around him. The noise creeps into his ears and down his back, making his skin prickle more than it already has from nerves.

“You can’t just _leave_ ,” the man hisses at him, pulling him in closer. Snufkin’s legs kick back a bit, up on the balls of his feet to keep himself steady. “You’ve got to give a proper apology or I’ll give punishment as I see fit.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, annoyed, a little nervous. “What are you, some kind of moral villain? I’ve apologized, that should be enough. If you’d just let me _go_ you’d never see me again.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking like that.” Snufkin’s anxious, and he slides a discreet hand behind him onto his backpack, wrapping his fingers around the handle of his pan hooked to the side. “You clearly need to be taught a lesson or two.”

His hand comes up but Snufkin is faster, swinging the pan around and whacking him in the head with it. He staggers backwards, finally letting go of his scarf, and Snufkin hurries to right his feet, turning and running from the situation. He hates a fight. Arguments are one thing, fists are another.

No one stops him, though there’s some yelling as he ducks through streets until he reaches the woods, and even then he doesn’t stop, going until he can’t anymore, resting against a tree and breathing heavily.

This winter isn’t so great, he thinks to himself. He fiddles with the scarf, pulling it off of himself, loosening the weight at the back of his neck.

He rests there for a while and then goes on his way. He has enough stock food left for now, he doesn’t need to try going into a town again today. When he finally sets up camp it’s a long way from where he was before. He doesn’t want to chance running into anyone from that marketplace. The next few days are spent deep in the woods, far away from prying eyes and too tight hands. He stays in the wilds, no talking from him or anyone else. All he has are hums for things that happen around him, no real responses to anything.

When he does run out of food in his pack, he waits even longer, living on fish and tubers he finds near streams. Eventually, though, he grows tired of the bland taste of water roots and plain cooked fish, and he steels himself to venture into the next town he finds. He’s heading back near the north a bit, where the friendlier places are, but even thinking of entering civilization makes his stomach turn.

He's not a child, Snufkin tells himself. He’s a grown enough mumrik and grown mumriks can handle a trip to a marketplace. He sets off towards a path and a small town comes into view not long after.

The walk through the streets is strange. He keeps getting odd looks from the people he passes, though no one says anything nasty. He’s not sure what it all means. He looks down at himself and finds nothing but the normal amount of dirt on his coat and boots. His hands are even covered in gloves, it’s not as though he’s dressed improperly for the weather.

The marketplace isn’t too crowded, and he weaves his way through people easily enough, careful not to brush into anyone this time. He spots a seller with carrots and potatoes and a basket of oranges, a treat he only gets to have in the winter. He walks up to the booth and waits his turn to be serviced.

The seller eventually turns to face him and seems to blanche a bit, looking him up and down. Snufkin opens his mouth to ask for a few pounds of the carrots and potatoes and maybe two oranges, but nothing comes out save for the quiet, cut off noise of him trying to speak.

He clears his throat and hears nothing, tries to speak again and hears nothing. He raises a hand up to his mouth and finds it still intact, but he can’t speak for some reason. Alright, he can work with this. Instead, he points to the potatoes and carrots and holds up two fingers.

“T-Two pounds of those?” the merchant asks in a rickety voice, and Snufkin nods his head. He moves over to the oranges and grabs two, adding them to the basket that the man is making up for him. Then he pulls out his money pouch and waits for the total, handing over the correct amount of coins once he’s told, holding the basket to his side and making his way out of the town.

When he makes it back to camp, he pulls off his gloves and stretches, closing his eyes. He should probably check on why he can’t talk sometime soon. That may be a setback in his travels for a little while if he can’t figure it out. He reopens his eyes, going to grab the basket and freezes. He can’t see his hands. He waves his arms around and finds nothing. Lungs locking up, he stumbles his way over to the nearest stream, pulling off his hat and looking at himself in the reflection.

The problem is is that there isn’t one. All that’s there are his clothes, and empty space where his head should be. He sits back, legs unsteady. He touches his face, tries to make noise but can’t. Desperate, he splashes a hand into the water. It makes a sound, empty space around his hand coming up into the cold air.

He makes his way back to camp and pulls his gloves back on, unsettled by the lack of presence. He can think through this. What makes people turn invisible, Snufkin? Think through your legend, think through your lore. After filtering through many ideas, he remembers something he learned in his travels. People can turn invisible after mistreatment from others, losing a trust in the people around him.

The problem is that Snufkin doesn’t have people around him right now. He supposes all the strange, uncalled for rudeness in the towns could count as mistreatment, certainly the fight with that man had been, but it shouldn’t turn him invisible. He hasn’t lost his trust in people.

Has he?

He thinks about the way his stomach turned before entering the Market. How he’d been anxious at the thought of leaving the woods. That he’d spent days eating tubers until he couldn’t take it and had to go to town.

Lack of trust is not an unfounded idea.

He thinks of Moomin, suddenly, of him not being able to see him, at the confusion and worry he’d have. He wonders if he’d think less of him, reject him for this. If all of Moominvalley would turn him away, just like everyone else.

He shivers and stands, banishing the thought from his head. They wouldn’t. Sure, he’s worried that they’d forget him in the winter time, that they’d have moved past him if he was too late in the spring, but they have nothing behind them. He has no proof that they would be anything but perfect in this situation.

It doesn’t stop the nagging in his stomach.

As the winter goes on, he finds he doesn’t hate being invisible. Not being able to make noise from his mouth is a bigger problem, as once he gets over the initial strangeness of not being seen he enjoys sinking into nature and becoming a part of it. His harmonica still works, his breathing hasn’t stopped after all. He still checks every day, just in case his voice has come back, but it never does.

Spring is fast approaching, and he’d hoped he’d be visible by the time he had to go back to Moominvalley, but it’s looking less and less likely. He doesn’t go into towns if he can help it, the scared and confused looks about his body’s state doing nothing to help his trust in people. At this rate he’ll show up unable to be seen or heard. People in the rest of the world may not understand why he’s unseen and unheard, but the people in Moominvalley are different. They’ll know for certain, and the idea of being seen like that, of others thinking he needs help, he hates it.

Even from Moomin, which his head has decided will be unbearably worried and pushy, will be too much. He misses his friend, but he knows this won’t be pleasant. He almost considers not going back at all, but he knows they’ll be expecting him.

His spring song is melancholy this year, lilting from minor note to minor note, echoing through the trees as it ends on a mid note. He’s starting to dread going back to the valley, and his steps slow as he tries to avoid the inevitable. But spring comes just like she always does, and with choked breath he plays his harmonica as he walks closer and closer to the valley, closer to others seeing him. He knows it’ll be Moomin first, and he hates the idea of seeming so dependent, so unable to take care of himself, even though he’s shown time and again that he’s just fine on his own.

Snufkin is grateful for his hat, large enough to shield his face as he walks to the edge of the tree line and into Moominvalley. He’d seen Moomin on the bridge, waiting impatiently with the lunch his mother always makes him on the first day of spring, and as anxious as he is, his heart swells in his throat.

“Snufkin!” Moomin calls out to him, dropping his bag and rushing up towards him. Snufkin finishes his song and pockets the harmonica. Moomin pauses in front of him, arms half open, clearly confused as to why he hasn’t looked at him yet. He continues not to and does the one thing he wants right now, before everything is certain to go down hill.

He reaches out and pulls Moomin into the tightest hug he can manage, burying his face in his furry shoulder. Moomin stands shocked for a moment before returning the embrace.

“I missed you too,” he says softly, and Snufkin chokes, curling his fingers into the fur of his back. The world is quiet for a while, nothing but the flow of the stream and the rustle of the trees.

As all things do, it has to end eventually. Moomin gets antsy and pulls back, and Snufkin stands there, head tilted down, not ready to give up the façade, the uncommon sensation fo fear curdling his insides.

“Are you alright?” Moomin asks him. “You’re awful quiet. Usually you’re so quick to tell me about the winter.”

Moomin reaches out a tentative paw and touches his face, tilting his chin up, and Snufkin closes his eyes tightly. There’s a sharp inhale of breath, and he can feel the paw curl back for a moment before resting itself gentle but firm on his cheek.

“Oh Snufkin,” he says sadly. He opens his eyes again and finds Moomin’s sad eyes staring right at him. Snufkin shakes his head, desperately hoping that Moomin won’t pity him for this, won’t think him helpless and useless on his own. “Come back to the house? Mama’s cooking a real nice first day of spring meal for dinner.”

He hesitates and then nods, soaking in the touch of Moomin’s paw on his cheek. Moomin leads him back to the house, keeping a paw in his hand the entire time. They don’t pass anyone on the way in, which is a miracle in and of itself.

“Mama!” Moomin calls once they’re in the house, and Snufkin’s feet plant him right in the entryway, yanking Moomin back as he’s stuck in place. He turns back to look at him, brows betraying his worry. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, “everything will be fine.”

“What will be fine?” Calls a voice from the stairs, and if Snufkin didn’t have a voice before he certainly wouldn’t have one now. Little My’s certain not to pity him for this, but she might act strange around him. Unsure of what she can do or not.

“Yes dear?” Moominmama calls from the other room, getting closer. “Did Snufkin arrive?”

“Yes…” he says, hesitating. “But… Mama do you remember Ninny?”

“Of course she remembers Ninny, you fuzz ball. That happened just before winter,” Little My snarks from her spot on the railing. She slides down it. “Why? What does that have to do with Snufkin?”

She hops onto the floor and looks at him. And keeps looking at him. “Hm,” she says. “I see exactly what that has to do with him.”

Moominmama comes into the entryway at last, looking at Moomin before Snufkin. He watches the recognition flash in her eyes and she wipes her hands on her apron. “Ah. Yes, that does make sense why you’d bring her up.”

She comes up next to them and smiles. “Snufkin, dear, I’m so glad to have you back in Moominvalley. Would you like some dinner? It’s almost done.”

He nods, letting out a breath. Whoever this Ninny person is seems to have been caught in the same bind he’s in now. He sets his things down near the door and makes his way into the kitchen. Mama gets him a glass of water and he nods appreciatively.

Moomin grabs a deck of cards from a bookshelf and holds them up, waving them. Snufkin gives him a thumbs up, not against the idea of playing cards. Little My rolls her eyes and sighs, slumping into her chair.

“Why do we have to play a stupid card game? They’re no fun. We don’t even get to do anything!”

“That’s exactly why,” Moomin argues. We can just be in each other’s company for a while and have some fun. Plus, you love card games, My, don’t lie.”

“Only if we play the fun one,” she says with a grin.

“I’m no good at that one,” he whines. Snufkin waves a hand and points to Little my, and then holds up two fingers.

“See? Snufkin seconds it! We’re playing.”

Moominmama turns back to the cooking. “I’ll have to pass this one, dear. Still have to finish up dinner. Do call me if you need anything. I’ll keep and ear out and a paw open.”

“Okay, Mama,” Moomin says, dealing out the cards. “Snufkin you’ll never guess what happened this winter.”

That’s a bit of a surprise. Moomin is usually very adamant about getting his sleep in the cold season. He cocks his head in question.

“Well, the moon woke me up, I’d left a crack in the blinds, and I realized how hungry I was.” He knocks a second after he lays down a heart card, glancing at Little My nervously. She just grins behind her cards. “So I tried to find some food but couldn’t, and I figured the only thing to do was go outside.”

He delves into the story of his ancestor, of the Winter Wind, of Too-Ticky living in the bath house and making him stew. He gets cards for not knocking, for forgetting to call Uno, and My is all too happy to give them out.

Snufkin’s left with one card in his hand, and if the round goes well, he can win. Little My plays the correct suit and he slaps his card down. “Mao,” he says victoriously, and both sets of eyes at the table fall on him.

He realizes he’s just said his first word in a few months and touches his mouth. “W-well,” he says, voice quiet, unused to being used. “Hand me the cards. I won the round.”

Moomin’s eyes are crinkled in the corners and he smiles as he hands over his cards.

The night goes well. He’s still not visible, but he can talk again. He drinks quite a bit of water, vocal chords not practiced in talking this much. Moominpapa seems a bit surprised to not be able to see him, and he tries to scare him back into himself at one point, which Snufkin gets a good laugh at. Everyone seems to be acting normal around him, even if Moomin still looks worried.

When it’s late enough to consider going to sleep, he excuses himself quietly. Moomin follows him to the entryway, watches him grab his things.

“Do… Did you want to stay inside tonight?” Moomin offers, rubbing his paws together.

“I quite alright outside,” Snufkin says, and he deflates a little. This has been nice, but he does still need his solitude. Although… “If you wanted to join me outside for a little while before bed you’re welcome to.”

“Oh!” Moomin lights up and nods. “Let me tell them real quick. Mama! Papa! I’m going out with Snufkin for a bit!”

He follows him out, helps him pitch the tent and build up a fire in his normal campsite. He settles on the log that’s been there for years and lights his pipe, watching the smoke curl and mix with that from the fire.

“Snufkin,” Moomin says after a while of quiet. He knows the question that will be coming, braces himself for it. They’ve done such a good job of avoiding the topic until now. “What happened?”

“I found a few unkind towns in my travels, nothing awful.” And it’s true. It wasn’t awful. It was just unsettling and upsetting. And it grew and grew under his skin until that man tried to fight with him over the smallest thing and he thinks that’s where it all spilled over. “Just a lot of little things that ended up being one big thing that I wasn’t able to get rid of myself.”

“You’re invisible, you couldn’t talk.” Moomin sounds upset, angry at the world. “That isn’t something small.”

“Tell me who Ninny is and I’ll tell you what happened.”

“Oh,” and he sounds fond. “That I can do. I found Ninny in the woods, thought it was a ghost at first. She’d gone completely invisible, even her clothes, and it took a while for us to figure out how to do things right. We ran into Too-Ticky and she explained the whole invisible situation to us, which you seem to know about since you’re not asking what’s going on with you. My had the wrong approach but the right idea for her, which was standing up for herself against everyone, even those trying to do her good like us. She’s off with Too-Ticky’s sister now, visible and talking again.”

Snufkin nods. That sounds about right with how everyone had been talking. He hems and haws for a moment over how to tell this, whether to leave certain parts out or not. He pulls his pipe out and fiddles with it in his hands.

“I found a place in the world where people aren’t kind. Many places, in fact. A bad corner of the world where no one wanted to give me to time of day, which really should be fine, but they were rude about it.” He hesitates and then says, “Cruel, I think is what they were. And it was all little moments, but they built up, like a dam. And then there was this man. I bumped into him on accident and he didn’t think my apology was acceptable. Grabbed me by the scarf and tried to get in a fight with me.”

Snufkin breathes. “It probably overflowed after that, and I avoided towns, staying in the woods whenever I could. I… I considered not coming back here, for a while. Not seriously, I wouldn’t do that to you over something like this. But I was worried you’d all think less of me, that you’d think I was helpless or not worth the time. That you’d forget me and I’d fade away completely.”

“I could never forget you!” Moomin cries. “You’re my best friend, Snufkin. I wouldn’t forget you, or think less of you. I know you can take care of yourself. You needing help sometimes doesn’t make you a weak person you know. Just look at me! I’m the bravest Moomintroll around, and I need help all the time.”

Snufkin smiles and he feels a little warmer inside. Moomin scoots closer and Snufkin hesitates before resting his head on his shoulder.

“I did miss you,” he says into the night air. “I didn’t get to say it before, but I did.”

“I know. You always miss me,” Moomin teases. “And I always miss you, even if I’m sleeping.”

He nods, and he’s so tired all of a sudden. A yawn comes out of his mouth, unseen but definitely heard, and Moomin lets one out too.

“It’s getting pretty late,” he says a little reluctantly.

“It is,” Snufkin says. “We should go to bed soon.”

“Do you mind if I stay out here tonight? If you need the space just tell me and I’ll go back inside. But I want to stay with you. It’s been a long winter.”

He thinks it through carefully. He has missed Moomin quite a lot, between stressing over him rejecting him for being invisible. “Yes,” he says eventually. “You can stay tonight.”

“Yes!” he says excitedly. They put out the fire and make their way into the tent, snuggling onto the bedroll together. Moomin is warm against his still invisible skin, and Snufkin closes his eyes, content.

“Good night, Moomin,” he says in a hushed voice.

“Good night Snufkin,” Moomin replies in the same tone. Sleep finds them both easily that night and Snufkin wakes up rested and warm and comforted, heart sitting full in his chest.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees are his hands in Moomin’s fur.

**Author's Note:**

> hi i watched all of moominvalley unwisely bc i have so many things due but i wrote this instead of any of them  
> im,,,, love snufkin. hes good. theyre all good.   
> also the idea of turning invisible? god that's so good. and with too-ticky and the zoom out to snufkin? what does it mean? what will we get? i need to watch all of the 90's series  
> please comment if you liked!


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